Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
CHELSEY
Mr. Robertson rose from his chair with a calmness that was actually quite scary. “Gadot and Delacrue. My office. Now.”
Gadot immediately turned and swept out of the room, but Delacrue protested.
“Now,” Mr. Robertson snapped, his dark eyes threatening hell to anyone who refused him.
Scowling, Delacrue pushed past Freeland, who’d been on his way to back up Gadot, and stomped out of the meeting room like an angry child.
Honestly, his behavior was completely inappropriate for a professional, especially in a setting such as this one, where messing up could quickly become public, which would have catastrophic consequences.
I limped between the people to find Stella. “I’m going to go with them,” I murmured. “I overheard everything and can be an impartial witness.”
Well, impartial-ish.
In my opinion, Delacrue was a massive jerk who deserved anything that came to him.
She nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on things here.”
Mr. Robertson was already heading out the door, so I hurried after him as fast as my throbbing ankle would allow and followed him to his office. Footsteps sounded on the linoleum behind me and when I glanced back, I was surprised to see Matt striding after me.
Deciding not to waste time asking what he was doing, I rushed into the office and stopped short when I realized there weren’t enough chairs. Mr. Robertson was in the process of sitting behind his desk and he paused as I entered.
“Chelsey?” he asked.
“I heard and saw everything,” I said, hovering behind Gadot and Delacrue, who’d each taken one of the chairs in front of Mr. Robertson’s desk.
The door behind me opened wider and Matt came in. When I looked at him over my shoulder, his expression was grim and determined.
Mr. Robertson sighed. “It seems like we’re making a party of it. Shut the door, Matthews. We don’t need anyone else interfering.”
Matt closed the door and came to stand beside me.
“You okay?” he murmured quietly.
“Fine.” It wasn’t as if I’d been involved in the altercation, after all.
Mr. Robertson leaned back in his chair, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “Does someone want to tell me what that display was about?”
Delacrue huffed. “Gadot made a big deal about nothing.”
“It’s never your fault when you get called out for behaving badly, is it?” Gadot demanded. “Because you don’t know how to take responsibility for your own words and actions.”
I cleared my throat. “In my opinion, this situation is something worth making a fuss over because we don’t want it to be repeated.
Especially not in front of a journalist and a photographer.
Your attitude has the potential to cause conflict in the team and portray us in a negative light to the public.
We’re trying our hardest to avoid that.”
Mr. Robertson nodded. “You’re absolutely correct. Any conflict within the team is unwelcome, particularly when outside parties are present. That said, I don’t understand what happened.”
Delacrue turned in his chair and glared. “Why do Matthews and the PR girl need to be here?”
I raised my chin. “I’m a witness.”
“And she has a name,” Matt added. “It’s Chelsey. As for me? I have information that might be relevant.”
Mr. Robertson waved his hand dismissively. “You can both stay.” He focused on Gadot and Delacrue. “I want to hear what happened directly from you, but if you lie, Chelsey will tell me what actually happened. Understood?”
They both nodded.
Gadot leaned forward, his foot tapping impatiently. “I overheard Delacrue say something homophobic.”
Delacrue sighed. “All I said was that I didn’t want the team to become a laughingstock.”
“And what is it that would make us a laughingstock?” Mr. Robertson asked.
“This fundraiser for the queer kids, obviously.” Delacrue rolled his head from side to side.
“Why would that be the case?” Mr. Robertson’s voice implied that Delacrue would be an idiot if he attempted to answer this.
“Because they’re—”
“Hold on,” Gadot broke in, his tone strained and full of emotion.
“I know what Delacrue’s opinion of gay people is, but I’m not going to sit here and listen to him make excuses, and I won’t put up with them being spewed in public.
Especially not in front of the media when we’re supposed to be discussing and celebrating a charity that’s close to my heart. ”
Mr. Robertson inclined his head in acknowledgment. “Fair enough, Amir.”
“He shoved me,” Delacrue spat.
“Which shouldn’t have happened,” Mr. Robertson agreed. “We can’t afford for disagreements to become physical, and he’ll be reprimanded for that.”
Delacrue looked smug.
“But,” Mr. Robertson continued, staring down Delacrue as if daring him to put a foot out of line, “I don’t ever want to find out that you voiced your opinion on the matter of the LGBTQ+ population in public or to anyone who might share it with the press while you’re a member of this team.
We don’t condone discrimination, and you will also be reprimanded. ”
Matt raised his hand, and Mr. Robertson motioned for him to speak.
Matt shifted his weight as if unsure of himself.
“Delacrue also made a comment earlier about Chelsey. The way he referred to her was disrespectful, and he accused her of playing favorites and giving some players more publicity than others.”
“Well, it’s true!” Delacrue protested, apparently not smart enough to hold his tongue. “Harris, Kelly, and Matthews got way more attention today than anyone else.”
“Because that’s what the magazine wanted,” I explained. “They asked to focus on the team’s leadership, as you saw with the interviews of Mr. Trent and the coaches. Harris, Kelly, and Matthews got more camera time because they’re the captain and alternates.”
Mr. Robertson sighed. “I see.” He picked up a pen and twirled it between his fingers. “Chelsey, do you think the reporter heard the context of the argument?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted reluctantly. “But even if she didn’t at the time, the other guys are probably talking about it right now, so she’s bound to find out. Can I offer a suggestion?”
He gestured encouragingly. “Go ahead.”
I drew in a deep breath. “I think the best response to safeguard the team’s reputation is to suspend Delacrue and prepare a press release to make it clear that the team doesn’t share his opinion and that bigotry won’t be tolerated. We need to be proactive.”
Delacrue shot to his feet. “Fuck off. You can’t get me suspended just for speaking my mind.”
Matt put himself between me and Delacrue, and I was quietly grateful for it because Delacrue was a big guy, and his face was turning red with fury.
“Wait a minute,” Matt said, holding up a hand to keep Delacrue at a distance. “I have another idea.”
“Excuse me?” I demanded, rounding on him.
He reached into his pocket, tapped on his phone a few times, and passed it to Robertson, who read the screen, a groove forming between his eyebrows.
“I’ve been keeping a record of the times when Delacrue has said or done something that reflects poorly on the team,” Matt explained, briefly catching my eye. “I have dates, times, and a short note about the context. I suspected he might cause trouble, so I wanted to be prepared.”
Delacrue dropped back onto a chair. “You asshole.”
Matt glanced at me, grimaced, and focused on Mr. Robertson. “I think we should wait.”
I stared at him in disbelief. Wait? Had he lost his mind?
I knew he liked to avoid confrontation, but we couldn’t sit on this.
We had to do something. And also, where the hell did he get off undermining my recommendation to the team manager?
He wasn’t a PR specialist. This was my area of expertise, not his.
“We don’t know that Tia will find out what happened,” he went on. “The guys know to be careful. If we release a statement, then we’re admitting what was said publicly, which might be the last straw for the commissioner.”
Mr. Robertson handed the phone back. “Send that to me.”
“I will.” Matt swiped away at the screen some more.
“Anyway, my point is, it might be better if we wait and see if it actually comes out before we decide how to respond. We could avoid a media circus. In the meantime, you guys can look through my notes and think about whether you might want to act on them somehow.”
Mr. Robertson nodded. “I agree.”
“But, sir—”
“I appreciate your advice, but the decision isn’t yours to make,” he said firmly. “I’ll run the options by Mr. Trent, but I’m certain he’ll see things my way.”
I wanted to argue because, if this went public and they were caught on the back foot, it could be devastating. Not to mention that Delacrue ought to be held accountable.
Mr. Robertson turned to the player in question. “This shows a concerning pattern of behavior. You’re benched for the next game, and you may want to consider whether you’d be happier retiring or being traded to another team.”
Yes. Petty satisfaction swept through me. That was more like it.
Delacrue went ramrod straight in his chair and his mouth fell open. “I-I… What?”
Mr. Robertson raised his eyebrows. “If you’re unhappy with the changes this team is making, you might be better off elsewhere.
It looks like we have the beginning of a case of legal cause to terminate a contract based on conduct detrimental to the team.
If I were you, I’d think very carefully about my future. ”
Delacrue’s mouth moved silently. It seemed like he was finally realizing that he’d screwed up big time.
He was an older, fourth line player. He wasn’t particularly highly regarded, and if he was traded, there was no guarantee that he’d end up on a team he’d consider to be “better.” Retirement was a valid option, but it was obviously something he didn’t want to do yet.
“I’m fine,” he said eventually. “I’ll shut my fucking mouth.”
“Excellent. Now, you’d both better hope that none of this makes it into the article.”
Mr. Robertson dismissed Matt and me but kept Delacrue and Gadot back to discuss the consequences of their actions. While I understood that Gadot shouldn’t have made things physical, I couldn’t help hoping that Delacrue faced a more severe punishment.
That man deserved to be scared for his career.
By the time I returned to the team meeting room, everything seemed to have gotten back under control. Tia was still interviewing Austin and Nick, and when we entered, she waved Matt over too. I circled around the edge of the room and updated Stella.
“These guys were all told they could leave,” she said, waving her hand at the players around us. “I don’t think any of them have. They’re a bunch of nosy nellies. They all wanted to wait and find out what happened with Delacrue and Gadot.”
“Did Tia question anyone about the fight?” I asked under my breath.
Stella shook her head. “I don’t know if that means she isn’t interested or if Warren got everything on camera, so they don’t need statements to go along with it. Maybe she thinks if she pushes, we’ll kick them out.”
I sighed. I supposed all we could do was wait and see.